


In the Future There Is No Coffee

by NancyBrown



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Food Porn, Future, M/M, Taken By The Rift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team is taken by the Rift and stranded in the future, where they have to adjust to a strange new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: diverges from canon around KKBB, brief mention of characters from CoE  
> Warnings: brief mention of underage, graphic descriptions of food  
> Beta: Fide_Et_Spe  
> AN: Written for Trope Bingo square: food porn

***  
Part One  
***

The thing was, in many respects the future was very little different from the past or the present.

The Rift had exhibited its usual perverse sense of humour, transplanting the five of them right out of the warehouse where they'd just dispatched a nasty Gilonian hell-bent on blowing up County Glamorgan and all the way to … here. At least they'd landed on a planet with a habitable atmosphere, a human(ish) colony population, and no imminent threat to life or limb. But the thing was, after that first terrifying rush of "ohshitohshit" and (for Ianto) worry that this was their first drop down the same precipice as those poor bastards out on Flat Holm, the humans (ish) that they encountered were, well, very normal. Very typical, practical people. They took in the group of strangers with raised eyebrows, and after dealing with the immediacies of their situation, went back to ignoring the Torchwood team, returning their attention to their own lives, and petty squabbles, and the realities of living as they did in a thin strand of land thrust out on an unforgiving sea. Ianto would say that on the whole, the colonists were very Welsh, but as much as offending Owen had its benefits, he hated to do the same to Tosh.

So. Alien planet. In the future. The five of them had found themselves marooned, but on the whole, things could be far worse. And Jack was playing his emotions so close Ianto couldn't read more than the squint in his eyes against the glare of the unfamiliar star overhead. Yet if he could, and if he did, he'd think Jack was remembering, and that this planet was less foreign to him than it first appeared.

"Stay here," he told them over the simple lunch the colonists had brought them.

Gwen asked, "Where are you going?" They could all hear her other questions, if Jack was leaving for good, if not when would he return, and what in the hell were they to do without him there translating the strange dialect of English?

"I'll be back soon," he said in answer to all. Without another glance to any of them he went out.

Ianto returned to his food. The tubers weren't much different from potato, with a hint of parsnip. The greens had been boiled too long, and were salted past flavour, but spread over the seedy flatbread they'd been given in a thick pile of warm carbohydrates, they weren't bad. Perhaps some butter would help, or a drizzle of olive oil. Neither appeared to be available, and Ianto wondered what else would be difficult or impossible to come by.

Just as when they'd been stranded briefly in Nepal, he began making mental lists of what they needed, what they'd want, and how to get by until they could make their way home. Ianto helped himself to more flatbread as he considered.

Owen chewed his food with complaint, Tosh less so. Gwen tried to come up with nice things to say but found herself speaking alone. She went quiet, finishing the meal in silence.

Jack came back towards dusk with a twisted, thoughtful expression. "Pack up," he said shortly, not that they had much to pack. "I've found a place for us to stay that's better than this." The public house where they lurked was as sparse and spartan as an abandoned tyre.

"Where are we going?" Gwen asked as they set out after Jack thanked their hosts for them. The hosts offered them more discs of bread to eat as they walked. Ianto wrapped the leftovers in a clean handkerchief and put himself in charge of the food stores. No-one objected, or noticed.

"A little place I know. It's not so far. I thought maybe," he said, but maybe what he wouldn't say. Ianto walked a half-pace behind him.

"A little place you know?" Owen asked. "You've been here before. We're caught up in another one of your fucking messes."

"Not exactly."

Toshiko was more excited than the rest of them. As they walked, and walk they did for over an hour, she bubbled excitedly about the snatches of future tech she'd seen: the robots and the sensors and the electronics she couldn't identify yet but was dying to explore. Owen rolled his eyes, Gwen smiled indulgently without understanding a word, and Jack kept walking without offering any comment.

The chilly breeze coming in off the sea offset the hot desert air from earlier. Ianto shivered even with the exertion of their long walk. He hoped they'd reach their destination soon. The building grew up against the seaside as they walked, looming eerily in the dark night. Sandstone, smooth corners, but with lights peeping out into the night, alien yet welcoming.

Jack rapped on the door with a comforting ease. He knew this place, somehow, from some adventure. A woman with a tired face answered the door. She exchanged words with Jack as he introduced them each by name. He'd spoken with her earlier, then. But he'd been gone for several hours, and this trip took far less time. Supposition: he'd been here quite some time before he'd returned for the four of them.

Ianto smiled politely at the woman as his own name was spoken, taking in the lines of her face and the desert-faded blue of her eyes. The home they entered was only a unit of the building, a part of the whole. Later, he would see the other residents going about their business, friendly to Jack and disinterested in his companions.

"We can stay," Jack said simply to them after a lengthy discussion with the woman. Gwen went to shake her hand in gratitude, but the woman pulled away.

Jack said, "Don't," and instead of explaining, he brought them to the largish room they would come to share during their time on this alien world. The centre of the room was filled with an oversized circular pad piled high with blankets. To either side were small hints of who may have slept here: a child's set of toys, small clothes in the wardrobe. But during their stay, Ianto never saw a child in this home.

"Believe it or not," Jack said, "as a rule people here sleep together. Big, happy pile of naked." He grinned, and was the old Jack for a nice moment. "You can get by with pyjamas. I won't tell."

Tosh said, "You won't be here with us?"

"No."

Gwen frowned, clearly wondering how many minutes would pass before Jack was in bed with their new hostess. Ianto watched Jack, watched the way he moved and the shadows crawling over his face, and thought not. "Thanks for finding this," he said for Jack to hear only, quiet, because the others were too busy freaking out and because honestly, what else was he to say?

"It's going to be okay," Jack said, also quiet, also only to him. "We're safe here."

And with that, he left them to wonder alone.

***

Morning brought few answers. Jack woke them around dawn, calling them into the cosy kitchen space. The woman, her name was Arian or Arianne, made deep-fried batter cakes for them, thick and rich with grain and fat. Ianto longed for some butter or honey to coat them, eventually eating four just as Jack did.

"What are these made of?" Gwen asked, trying to smile at Arianne but meeting a stone wall of silence.

Jack said, "Corn derivative. Earth corn from your time isn't especially nutritious. It's been genetically modified by now. Full of vitamins. You can go all day on a plateful." He chewed the last cake noisily, sucking on his fingers. Ianto tore his gaze away from Jack's hands and mouth. This wasn't the time.

Owen glanced at Arianne, who wasn't joining them at the well-scrubbed table. "Why do I get the feeling she'd like to shoot us?"

"She won't," said Jack. "You're with me."

Tosh asked, "Would she shoot us if we weren't with you?"

"No."

"Where are we?" Gwen asked, staring at him.

Jack sat back. The chairs weren't a matched set, Ianto had noticed. Four were the same, one had been brought in from elsewhere. Jack took the different chair, sitting in the oddly-sprung seat like he belonged there.

He took a long drink of water. Water was the only drink here, Ianto realised over time, pure and sweet, filtered with care from the seawater. When Jack finished his cup, he placed it carefully at a precise angle with the plate and spoon. "I was born here."

The last pieces fell into as perfect a place as Jack's cup. Arianne was his mother or his sister, her face closely-hewn to Jack's features. This was his home. Of course.

Gwen's mouth made a little O of shock. Tosh's eyes went wide in her surprise. Owen merely looked annoyed and disgusted, but he often did. "Were you going to tell us?"

"I just did."

"How did we get here?" asked Gwen, trying for another smile at Arianne, and getting as neutral a response as before.

Ianto said, "The Rift takes people sometimes. It doesn't just bring shit to Cardiff." It was as close to a confession of what else he knew as he'd say without Jack's specific blessing. The facility was his project; Ianto merely tallied the numbers and placed orders when needed, and kept his hands as clean as he dared.

"What?" Tosh had spoken, but Gwen and Owen matched her expression.

Jack said, "We'll get home." Which wasn't an answer at all.

***

Jack went out in the mornings with the young women and men of the colony. The chief means of support and sustenance for those who lived on this sparse peninsula colony appeared to be fishing and growing the corn and vegetables that made up every meal. For trade, they preserved via suspended animation the rarest and tastiest of the caught seafood: whorls of shell that looked like scallops, multi-legged stars with eyes over every appendage, and once (Jack seemed very proud of catching this) a graceless monstrosity of delicate pink fronds the size of a large housecat. Jack broke off a handful of heliotrope tentacles, giving the rest to storage, and he and his mother fried their portion in a shallow pan.

"Try this," he said, grinning, blowing on a hot piece before popping it into Ianto's obediently open mouth. Scorching fat scalded his tongue. He gasped, then noticed the heat sinking without burning, and the rich flavour of salt and chewy muscle filling his mouth.

"That's not bad."

"Not bad? A plate of this goes for seventy credits on one of the inner worlds. And that's without the starters or the salad." Jack was lost for a moment in some unnameable memory. Ianto chewed the last of his bite.

The others hadn't returned yet. Gwen had wanted to take a closer look at the marketplace, now that they had their bearings and a smattering of the lingo. She'd coaxed Tosh to go with her, unafraid of walking in the twilight with Jack's assurances that the colonists would eat their own ears before harming the pair of them. Owen had gone off somewhere. He didn't like this world, this place, and he was sure Jack's mum gave him the evil eye.

Ianto didn't mind. He'd thought he would be homesick, but once he'd settled himself, he found he missed Cardiff only as an absent want. He'd always been the one to leave, had wanted to leave since he'd been a boy, and were it not for needing a space for Lisa, and after, a space to find himself again, he would have left for good. The sun here was brighter, and the sea was more active, and Jack was here. His friends were here. Everything and everyone he'd left behind seemed less important, although part of him nagged and worried that perhaps he hadn't filled the Weevil feeders or set the automatic door to let the pterodactyl outside.

Jack and his mum continued their conversation. Ianto couldn't follow more than a word here and there. But he could fetch food from the pantry, and when Arianne pushed a spoon into his hand and told him to keep stirring, he managed.

"She worked on the boats until her back got too tired," Jack told him. "Now she helps out in the colony centre during lessons, teaching art to the kids. Mum used to be a painter." The revelation seemed fitting somehow, although Jack himself never once took up a brush. The warm colours of this hearth, the murals covering the walls with incongruous greens of trees that would not grow in this sandy soil, these spoke of her passions.

When the meal was ready and the others still not back, the three of them sat at the table. Arianne asked Jack questions, some of which he obviously dodged. God alone knew what she asked, what he said. Did she know he was immortal now? Hell, did she know he had everything and everyone possible in his bed? (Not Ianto, not recently. They'd never made that date, not with the Rift being a bastard, and with their sudden displacement. Jack had not made a move, nor had he. He half-wondered if Jack was availing himself to the opportunities afforded by his fellow sailors, but he came home every night, piling into his mother's family bed like an infant. Which was weird, but apparently, expected.)

Ianto nibbled at a few fried pieces of pink fish, but Jack spooned more onto his thick, sandstone plate. "These won't still be good by the time the others get back." Jack himself polished off the rest; Arianne apparently didn't like them, picking choicely browned pieces of the tubers for her own plate. Ianto could not fault her. Properly seasoned and baked, the tubers were less potato-and-parsnip, more garlic-and-cheese-toastie with neither garlic nor cheese. Once he was used to it, the food was wonderful here.

Three days later, Jack didn't go out on the sea, but instead woke them all, packed a basket full of bread and little jars he'd picked up at the marketplace, and led them (complaining) to a long, grassy slope some distance away.

"A picnic?" Gwen asked, sitting down uncomfortably. She looked natural in the garb they'd all started to wear, the loose clothes adapted to the desert on the sea. She gazed around the scrubland as though Jack had picked a garbage dump.

Jack said, "A picnic." He threw himself down easily, reclining.

And his mother hadn't joined them, Ianto noticed. He passed out the plates, these made of flimsy material not unlike cardboard.

"Seriously, Jack," said Owen. "When are we getting home?" The sand abraded his pale skin, and his eyes squinted against the twin brightnesses of the sand and the sunlight glinting from the sea. Owen detested this place, and made no secret of that fact.

"I'm working on it."

Tosh asked, "How? Is there something we can do to help?" The most they had done, any of them, was to join the teams working the fields, but none of them had the skills or patience, and they'd all been politely but firmly asked to stop helping.

Jack ignored the question, and took out a nice, big disc of bread, with a small pot of something brown in his other hand. With a little production number, he spread what could possibly have been jam over the bread, broke it into pieces, and passed them around. It wasn't bad at all, Ianto thought. This place lacked sweets, but the savouries made up for the loss, and today's sample was no exception. The spread was similar to a buttery meat paste, a little like foie gras. Jack took out all the little pots, making them bites like a dad feeding his kids.

If it weren't for Ianto's desire to lick the spreads from Jack's fingers, and maybe paint some parts of his anatomy with same, the thought would have worked better. They shared a large canteen of sweet water amongst them. Owen still squinted at the water every time, despite Jack's assurances that there were no parasites to fear.

"What's this?" asked Gwen of a cream-coloured spread that tasted a bit of Marmite.

Jack paused. "Okay, I've watched all of you eat honey, right?"

"Sure."

Owen set down his plate, coming to Jack's point faster than the rest of them. "Honey. As in, bee vomit?"

"Honey. As in, if you really like it, don't think too hard about where it comes from."

The last pot was a shocking cobalt blue. As Ianto bit down into his portion of bread, sugar burst across his tongue, and lushly acidic fruit flavours. He hoped he kept the moan to himself, but from the way Jack's eyebrows raised, he doubted it. "That's good," he covered.

"Not much fruit here," Jack said, grin poking over his whole face.

Tosh asked hopefully, "Is there more of that blue one?"

"Not with us. I can pick up another pot. With the work I've done, we have a little spending money. It's going to take more to get passage to the inner planets." His face went firm, hidden.

Gwen said, "Jack? What aren't you telling us?"

"If we can get hold of some Time Agency tech, I'll be able to send us back to our time. But it's going to take a lot of money to get us all to where they're located, and then I have to figure out how to steal something we can use." He scratched the back of his neck. "And there's the slight problem where the Time Agency, assuming it still exists, will have a price out on my head."

"You are fucking kidding me." Owen's food was mostly untouched ever since the honey comment. Ianto made eyes at his fruit spread piece, wondering if he could convince Toshiko to split the rest with him.

"They don't know I'm here. They don't know I'm alive. They might even have disbanded by now. John wasn't clear on the timing for that." A quelled shudder went through the group at the mention of Hart's name. He was also from this time period, and the last thing any of them wanted was to see that maniac again. "But yeah, we'll have to get close, raid one of their facilities, and nick another Vortex Manipulator." He gestured to his wrist strap. "Simple."

Gwen had been holding herself together for the week they'd been stranded, but now she collapsed into a heap of misery. "I'm never going to see Rhys again." That she hadn't mentioned her fiancé even once before now meant little. Tosh gave her a comforting pat on her shoulder.

"We'll sort it out," she said. "And it's time travel. We can go back so he won't even know we've gone, right?" This was to Jack, who didn't reply.

"The other option," he said, "is that I try to track down my Doctor and ask him for a lift. Only I spent over a century in Cardiff waiting to do just that, so I wouldn't want to make the rest of you have to wait."

***

The following day, Jack was back out on the sea. Ianto had asked him about going along, only to be met with a frown and an all-too-familiar hand held at his chest. "Don't even think about it."

"But I could help."

"You get seasick."

"That was only one time." The sea had been choppy on his way back from his first trip out to Jack's private care home on Flat Holm, and he'd just come face to face with some of the horrors hidden there. He still didn't know if Jack had been punishing him, or offering him a token of forgiveness, but either way, his lunch had gone overboard.

"You don't know what you're doing out there. I'd have to spend time keeping an eye on your safety. If you want to be useful, help out in the fields." He'd left before Ianto could remind him that they'd already been asked not to help there, either.

The thing about the future was that the four of them from the twenty-first century fit in as well as Socrates at a rugby match.

Gwen suggested a nice walk, but Ianto, still put out by Jack's refusal, declined, He watched the other three meander off away from the sea, over the dunes towards the colony centre. For a moment, he regretted his decision, now feeling even more useless with nothing to do, but never one to let a good sulk go, he went back to the room he shared with them intending to take a nap.

The bed was a mess. They'd each staked out a corner by mutual assent although by morning he generally woke with someone's arm or foot shoved in his back, and the covers showed it. Ianto set about tidying, folding and stacking blankets until the room looked like adults lived there instead of just Owen. He collected extra blankets and carried them to the room Jack was sharing with his mother. (Because _that_ wasn't weird. It fit Jack somehow, but _weird_.)

He found Arianne in the room, curled up amongst the blankets. Ianto stammered, "Sorry. I thought you'd left." He made to leave, but despite the language gap, the tone in her sleepy voice made him turn around. She sat up, took a look at the pile of blankets, and gestured towards a doorway along the far wall, away from the outer corridor.

Ianto followed her direction, stooping under the low lintel to what he thought would be a dressing room or storage room. Instead, he discovered another bed, clearly slept in. The walls were fitted with the same pull-handles that functioned as drawers in the room Ianto shared with the others. Thinking perhaps he was meant to put the blankets here, he opened one and found where Jack had put his regular clothes. Ianto took a second look.

Oh. Jack had his own room, accessed from his mother's room but separate, almost like a nursery.

Ianto set the blankets on the bed, then took the opportunity to prowl. There wasn't much here. The drawers held clothes that would fit a teenager. There weren't many fripperies or knickknacks, just a few photos. To Ianto's surprise, the pictures moved as he lifted one closer. It was surreally reminiscent of Harry Potter, except that the frame was clearly technological, not magical. The moving pictures showed people Ianto didn't know. One videograph held four people, one of whom was a younger Arianne and another who had Jack's eyes with a goofier grin. But there were no other pictures anywhere in the house of the man, nor the other little boy, nor even of Jack. 

When Ianto had been fifteen, Rhiannon had gone through the house and packed up every picture of Mam, and put them in the attic. Then she'd had a good cry whilst Ianto had sat in his room with the radio up so loud the neighbours complained.

The four people in the photo looked happy, smiling and waving. The little boy was proudly displaying something that looked like it could be an award of some sort. A quick glance showed the same item, a little statue of what looked a bit like a fish, sitting dusty and abandoned at the back of one of the small tables in Jack's room.

He put the picture frame back where he'd found it, hating the crawling feeling he had that he was prying. There was another doorway at the far end of Jack's room, leading God knew where. It dawned on Ianto, as he mentally recatalogued the layout of the flat, that the rooms were not laid out in a simple pattern of spaces shooting off the central room or hallway, but instead wound through and around like a rabbit warren. The next room might belong to the little boy in the picture, or might be something new entirely. But he wasn't going exploring now.

He managed a friendly smile for Arianne as he made his way back out through her room. She stayed where she was, eyes half-lidded. The poor woman looked exhausted.

She didn't speak English, not English as he knew it, and he couldn't yet parse the tongue she used with her son. He hoped a pleasant tone and open demeanour would fill in where meaning was lost, as he said, "Can I help you with anything? I could help clean the house, or make you some tea, or something."

Arianne blinked at him, and he mimed drinking tea from a cup and saucer. She gave a half-laugh, more of a snort really. But she smiled.

"Tea it is," he declared, then turned and walked towards the kitchen, wondering if he'd seen anything remotely resembling any kind of tea leaves, or for that matter, a kettle.

He made do with a pot, and lit the hob without setting himself or the kitchen on fire. Alas, tea or some futuristic version of same were nowhere to be found. Everyone here drank water, and the caffeine-withdrawal bitchiness they'd all been experiencing was strong evidence that would remain the case.

Eventually, Arianne emerged from her room, watching Ianto. She moved past him to the pantry, the cold larder instead of the warm (everything here was stored in suspended animation, from the biscuits to the vegetables). She came back with fresh green leaves of something, which she crushed in her hands over two small bowls of the boiling water he'd prepared. As an example, she pulled the bowl to her face and sniffed deeply, then took a drink. Ianto mimicked her. The aroma hit him as something fresh, verdant and unexpected on this sandy, salty strip of land, and when he took a drink, the hot liquid tasted the way newly-cut grass smelled. He smiled at her in thanks, accepting her tired smile in return.

Tea, if tea it was, lasted a nice, quiet while. Outside and from the other units, Ianto could hear voices, movements, the sounds of people living their lives. In here, they passed the time in a silence that did not impose.

After, Arianne took the bowls but Ianto motioned that he'd wash up. She nodded and began instead to gather baking supplies: fresh corn, soda powder, water warmed gently in a pan. He watched her movements as she took each ingredient, ground the corn to a fine meal and sifted in a light dusting of powdery sugar. Ianto offered his hands with broad gestures, pouring seeds into the grinder, and stirring the thick mixture. Together, they poured the final result into small pans, greased with something unknowable from a tub, and placed them into the hot oven.

The first seed cake came out of the oven twenty minutes later. Arianne showed him how to pop it from the pan onto a plate. They cut slices, spreading more of the thick, rich paste Jack had shown them, and took a fine lunch by themselves in the kitchen. The firm crumb of the seed cake had a plain but familiar solidity in his mouth, nutty but not overpowering, and the paste added a salty, beefy tone he appreciated as a contrast with the usual fish flavours.

Arianne spoke to him, words he couldn't make out but he took the tone of. Ianto nodded when he felt the pause was right. When her face crumpled sadly, he placed a gentle hand against her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, because even if he didn't know what her pain was, he recognised the feeling.

She patted his hand, and he suspected the words she said were calling him a good boy.

***

When the others arrived home, Ianto mentioned the seed cakes were ready for their tea, neglecting to mention the actual tea. They ate as they chatted, not a one taking time to appreciate the food as more than a temporary slake to hunger. Ianto shared a look with Arianne, but she said nothing to them, merely went back to her room.

Jack got home late, smelling of the sea (which was to say mostly of fish). He went straight to the bath, a salty warmth Ianto was learning to appreciate, before he came out and ate three cakes himself. His mother came out to say hello, and Jack spoke to her, clearly complimenting her cooking. She gestured at Ianto, earning an appreciative glance from Jack as he continued to chew.

His portion of today's catch lay on the prep slab, keeping cool. Arianne began to prepare dinner, with Ianto shadowing her to observe how she warmed the fragrant oils she'd use to sear the fillets before baking them to a flaky perfection.

Gwen pulled a chair over to watch, face clearly trying to summon up enthusiasm for yet more fish. "I'd kill for a steak and kidney pie," she said wistfully.

"Inner planets," Jack said, and without prompting, he started to peel the tubers.

***

Owen, face drier and redder by the hour, found work as an extra pair of hands in the local clinic. The first few days, he came home ever more sour than usual. After that, he started describing to the rest of them, with some translations by Jack, the miraculous medical technology available on this out of the way little colony world.

"No, you can't take it home with you," Jack said, for the tenth time.

"But it's a cure for fucking cancer. Do you have any idea what that would mean to the world?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. And you can't."

Jack was just as firm with Toshiko, who'd finally worked her head around accessing the computer systems here. The inputs were as much mental and emotional as they were physical, she told them, aglow with discovery. She was learning day by day, and the glances Jack gave her were both paternally proud and concerned that he might have to wipe her memory. Gwen, in an attempt to butter up Jack's mum, had gone with her to the school a few days, and discovered for herself that she enjoyed spending time with the children, minding them as they played between lessons, and putting her foot down when the older children bullied the younger tots.

They were settling in, not well, but slowly. Ianto chose to stay near home, taking over more of the upkeep. Arianne guided him to the chores that needed doing, not just sweeping the ever-present sand that crept in, but mending the furniture and resetting the pieces that had come askew. The tasks gave him something useful with which to pass his time. In the evenings, he helped her prepare their meals, gradually taking over to give her a break from dealing with her wayward son and his friends. Still, she sat in her favourite chair in the kitchen as he mixed and added, giving him advice, and chatting at him in her own tongue.

"He was always a good boy," she said one day, and Ianto replied without thinking, "You wouldn't think so."

Then he turned to her, shocked but pleased. She grinned back. He said, in her language, "He's terribly naughty back home."

Arianne nodded. "I'm not surprised."

Grasp of the language came quickly after that, and soon Ianto gossiped with Jack's mother like they were old friends out for lunch. He couldn't pronounce the name she called her son, too much of a lilt on the vowel, and a glottal stop on the end consonant he thought might be a compound sound he wasn't making out. "Jack" was close enough, and she knew whom he meant.

Arianne told him stories about Jack's childhood, silly games he'd played, times he'd hurt himself. In return, Ianto gave her tales he was fairly sure were true rather than tall: how Jack had saved the world, how he'd travelled the stars with a madman and a teenager. There were holes in her stories, he could tell but didn't know how to ask. Something was missing. He considered the photograph, four people in a family that now had only two.

By the time Jack got home from fishing that evening, Ianto and Arianne were in tears from laughing so hard over one of her stories: Jack in the water all a mess, and naked, proud of himself for catching a crab.

"What's so funny?" Jack asked, carefully laying his catch on the cold artificial marble of the preparation slab.

"Crab hands," Ianto said with delight, in the language he'd learned. Arianne pealed with laughter again, while Jack frowned.

"What?"

"Crab. Hands."

"Do you even know what that means?"

Ianto then told him the same story Arianne had told him, with her offering additions and corrections as he went. Jack's eyes grew wider. "I can't believe you told him that."

"You were adorable."

"I was six."

"Adorable," she repeated. With happiness all over her face, she looked years younger. Ianto smiled again to see it. Then he got up from his chair to cook up the fish for the rest of their dinner. Jack took his seat, watching him.

In English, Jack said, "Since when do you speak the language?"

"I've been learning." He took the sharpest knife, odd that some things in a kitchen never changed, and began to fillet the bulbous flesh.

"Just like you've learned to cook."

"Something to do with my time."

"I'll get you home."

"I never said you wouldn't. A sauce with this, do you think? I wish we had garlic. The oil's nice, and almost buttery, but garlic and basil would help."

Jack slipped back into his native tongue. "Garlic and basil are luxury goods. Most seasonings are. The climate here doesn't do well with herbs."

"I may have something," Arianne said, and she went to the cold pantry, coming back with a small bottle that Jack inspected.

"We never had this stuff when I was a kid," he said, slightly accusatory.

"You were happy with beans, and Gray just wanted cheese all the time. I wasn't about to waste my good spices on something you wouldn't eat." She handed Ianto the bottle, and warned him to only use a few drops.

"Should I ask what it is? Are we talking more bee vomit?"

Jack shrugged. "Go ahead."

When the fish was warm and flaky, Ianto took a test bite. The sauce added a smoky flavour to the rest. Unusual, and he preferred lemon or garlic butter, but as the tender meat dissolved on his tongue, the subtle taste mixture went through his mouth and into his nose. "Wow."

"Good, right?" Jack asked, delighted.

Gwen enjoyed the new dish, as did Tosh. Owen was smart enough to eat it and not complain, so that was another victory.

Ianto did the washing up after, because Arianne looked tired. Jack helped him, drying the thick sandstone plates and chatting about his day on the boat. It was nice. They hadn't spent time together lately, still too busy back home to work on that date, and too busy here to think about dating. As Ianto passed each dish to Jack, he was delighted to note how their hands managed to touch far more often than necessary. The rest ignored them, which made the secret touches that much more fun.

The night was pleasantly chill, and Ianto hadn't been out much. "I'm going for a walk," he announced after everything was cleaned up, and he wasn't surprised when Jack offered to join him. This was met with a certain roll of eye and annoyance from their friends. Arianne had already returned to her room.

As soon as they were away, Ianto said, "You know they think we came out here to have sex."

"Well, I was thinking a walk sounded nice, but if you're insistent about the sex, I won't say no."

Ianto kept walking, bumping his shoulder into Jack's on purpose. "Ah, then you didn't get me out here alone to ravish me?"

"Hey, this was your idea. I expect to be the one getting ravished."

It had been too long since they'd just spent time alone this way, acting like idiots around each other because they could. "Tell me more about your day," Ianto said.

"Not much to tell. I go out on the boat, we throw the nets, I haul them in, I get tired."

"What aren't you telling me?"

He shrugged. "Nothing yet? There's nothing definite and I don't want to worry you. All right?"

That was significantly more worrisome than Ianto had suspected. "Jack?"

"It's fine." He grinned, and changed the subject. "Hey, in a few days we're having a festival. They call it Sol, for the longest day of the year even though we're around a different star."

"Sounds anthropological."

Jack laughed. "I guess. But I was thinking, I still owe you a date. Want to go together?"

Ianto blinked. "Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be sure?"

"Does your mother know about you?"

"About what about me?"

In the low light, they looked at each other, aliens from different planets. Ianto made his choice first. "Back home, I haven't told anyone about us, about you. I'm not embarrassed," he said quickly, "it's just that." He paused. "I don't know what to say. I'm not gay. I'm not sure I like the baggage around the word 'bisexual,' and I don't think it applies because I'm not attracted to most other men. You're just … you."

He glared at Jack, nearly a year's worth of blame for self-doubt and questioning crammed into one scowl. Jack didn't help matters with his chuckle.

"You people," he started, but Ianto cut him off.

"Don't give me that. You may be from here, but you're as lost as we are. You've lived in my time longer than you have in this time, so don't say, 'You people.' You are our people, Jack. So I am asking, does your mother know?"

"About you and me? No. I didn't think we'd be staying long, and you and I haven't been together since we've been here."

"But she knows you're … you," Ianto said. Jack took his hand whilst they started to climb one of the steeper hills. They helped each other to the top.

"She knows I'm me." Jack was confused, and then he wasn't. "There's some cultural context you're not getting. Here, and actually most places I know of, they have a tradition. When you're ready to embark on your sex life, your parents set you up with a couple or a triad they know well to show you the ropes. Usually, it's a male and female couple, but kids who already know their preferences sometimes ask for something more specific. My best friend knew he was gay, and his first time was with these two guys we'd known all our lives."

"What about you?"

Jack shrugged. "It was just Mum and me then. She had some friends who were happy to teach me."

"You're saying your first time was a threesome with your mother's best friends?" He tried and failed to wrap his mind around that.

"Maybe not 'best' but yeah."

"How old were you?"

"I was ready at thirteen but she made me wait until I was almost fifteen. Got in a lot of quality wanking time before I finally got the chance, let me tell you."

Ianto chose not to picture this. It fit him, though: Captain Jack Harkness, threesomes at fourteen years old. 

"Do you want to go or not?" Jack sounded a touch impatient, and Ianto nearly said no out of spite.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Just a party. Lot of food. Dancing. We'll have a blast."

Ianto nodded, nervous and warm. They stood very close together in the chilly air. From here, they could see the waves gently rocking on the sea, with starlight everywhere. Bit romantic, more than a bit romance novel, Ianto thought. Any second now, one of them would turn to the other, and they'd meet in a nice kiss. It'd been too long. The others already reckoned they were out here fucking, no reason not to. He leaned closer to Jack, felt his arm slide around him comfortably.

"We should get back," said Jack, and with a tug, he started to walk back down the hill, Ianto dragged along behind him.

Ianto hesitated. "We could stay out." 

"I have to work tomorrow. You can stay out if you want. It's safe." He turned away and kept walking. As if Ianto worried about his safety here. As if that was the reason they were out here.

Ianto watched him go, wanting to join him and wanting more for him to come back.

***

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

***  
Part Two  
***

Arianne had the next three days off from work. She spent her spare time in the colony centre helping to prepare for the Sol festival. Ianto tagged along, acting as her sous chef and second pair of hands while the food teams prepared giant piles of seed cakes, massive bowls of mashed tubers with tasty, creamy spices mixed through, tureens of soups and sauces, and a mountain of roasted vegetables.

"No fish?" he asked her as they walked home together the first night.

"We cook that on the day. Big fire pits with grills and spits. You can help if you want." She patted his hand.

"I'd like to, yes."

She sang under her breath as they neared home, a sunny tune he recollected from some very late nights with Jack, half asleep or half drunk. "What's that? Jack sings it all the time."

"It's an old love ballad. Two little fish play in a pool by the shallows. One gets picked up in a bucket, the other swims away. The one that's caught jumps out of the bucket but it's on the other side of the strand, far away from its love. They call to each other but they can't hear anything except a distant echo of their song. Eventually, they both swim to the ocean, and they meet again."

"Fish? It's a fish romance?" He made a hand gesture of a little fish swimming along to make sure he got the word right.

"It's sweet," she chided.

"It's fish."

"What's romantic where you come from? You are from Earth, from the past."

"Well, there's Romeo and Juliet," he said, pulling the first example he could.

"Really? Two dumb teenagers who kill themselves instead of talking to their parents for five minutes?"

"It's the greatest romance ever written, at least according to my last girlfriend." Talking about Lisa didn't hurt, not here, not thousands of years after her death, like saying the name of an old friend: all the fondness, none of the sorrow. "There's also Titanic, that was supposed to be incredibly romantic when I was a teen. And Twilight." Ianto paused. "Actually, a lot of romance seems to be about dumb teenagers. Maybe the fish aren't so bad."

***

The next day, he managed to secure a pot of blue jam. To Arianne's amusement, he set aside a batch of dough for the seed cakes, pressing it instead into small biscuit shapes and placing a precious dollop of fruit paste into each one.

"What are they?" she asked when he took the first batch out, only slightly burned, from the huge brick oven. Ianto removed them from the pan, blowing on one to cool it before offering the treat up.

"They're called Jammy Dodgers. More or less."

She bit into the hot jam, and made a face, which gradually turned to delight.

***

On the day of the festival, there was no work. Jack slept in, and he refused to be roused. "I'll go when I go," he grouched, and threw pillows until they left him alone.

"The bear can stay in his cave," Arianne said. "We'll go."

She brought the four of them to the picnic grounds on the edge of the colony. Ianto hadn't seen the decorations, but Gwen pointed proudly at bright red and yellow bunting she'd helped hang yesterday. Already a mass of people had gathered, and again Ianto was surprised by the variety, not just humans, but a dozen other species moving through the growing crowd unnoticed. No wonder Jack was so at home among aliens. He'd grown up with them.

Arianne led Ianto off to help load the food onto the tables. He took her orders with amusement, enjoying how she had settled so naturally into accepting his assistance. Arms laden with bowls, plates, warming dishes, cold packs, and more, he walked back and forth between the colony centre and the picnic, carrying everything he could and placing it where he was told.

He found the accents of the other colonists difficult to parse, having learned his words from listening to Jack and his mum. Arianne was an outworlder, he remembered. She wasn't a native to the Boeshane, but a woman who'd married a colony boy, and she'd stayed long after her reasons for staying were gone.

Around him, he occasionally spotted his friends. They'd split off, chatting or eating with the contacts they'd been making here: Owen with the other medics, Toshiko with the other technicians she'd been shadowing, Gwen with everyone she met. Ianto stayed near the cooks, eventually stationing himself at a fire pit where a big-chested, barrel-armed fisherman grilled what seemed to be half the sea life in the ocean. Ianto fetched plates and served up charred lumps of salty fish to the long line of diners.

There was only a small plate of Jammy Dodgers. As the day wore on, Ianto noticed Owen taking half of them. To be fair, he gave several to Tosh and Gwen as the three of them bumped into one another and separated again. Jack was nowhere to be seen. Ianto began to suspect that he wasn't coming, or if he was coming, that he was going to make a spectacle of himself, big and loud and embarrassing. Perhaps a play with the children, or a strip tease on the stage. Ianto wouldn't put either past him.

This led to the particularly nice mental image of a naked Jack sprawled out with a come hither expression. Ianto indulged that fantasy as he handed out portions of fish, recalling the firm muscles of Jack's thighs spread in his hands and the contrasting lush softness of Jack's lips as he leaned up demanding kisses.

When there came a lull in the dining due to the musicians warming up their drums and strings, Ianto took the opportunity to fill his own plate high with all the good things. The grilled fish had a sharp flavour, from the strange sea and the sprinkle of spicy sauce the chef had used on each piece. Wrapped in a sourdough flatbread, it wasn't half bad, and the bread greedily soaked up the best of the sauce. The roasted vegetables, even cold, held a succulent tang on each toasted piece. Dozens of seed cakes in all sizes had been joined on the table by a heavy load of desserts: creams and light breads and even a few layered fruit and pudding delights. Ianto had to stop himself from stuffing his face rudely, because he wanted to gorge on everything as the music went into full swing.

"Try this," Arianne said, walking up to him with a determined expression. She tapped his chin to get him to open like a little bird, and fed him a piece of fruit covered with a thick red sauce. The sweet fruit, nothing he could recognise, burst with sweetness in his mouth. The sauce was sharp, like chiles, and it burned. He gulped for air unexpectedly, managing to inhale a very small piece, which sent him into a cough.

Arianne patted his back as Ianto got his breath back, and he managed to chew the rest.

"It's good," he told her, when he finally swallowed. "Thank you."

"The spice has a kick. I should have warned you."

"No, I love hot curries."

There was a hand on his back. Ianto stiffened. From the change in Arianne's eyes, he was pretty sure he knew who the culprit was. Sure enough, Jack said, "Hi."

"About time you were here," said his mother. "Eat something."

"I had some business to do. But sure." Without waiting for an offer, he started picking pieces off Ianto's plate and popping them into his mouth.

"Rude," she chided. "Get your own."

"I don't mind," Ianto said. "He does this all the time back home."

The sad smile she'd donned at Jack's appearance went sadder. Ianto suddenly felt bad for reminding her. He made a fast decision, shoving the plate and the rest of his meal into Jack's surprised hands. "Come on," he said, as kindly as he could.

Ignoring Jack's confusion, Ianto took Arianne by the hand and led her to where the various couples and triads and children and more were dancing a complicated step. "I don't think I can do this one," he apologised in advance before making the gesture he'd seen several others extend to invite a partner to dance.

She laughed. "No, I don't think you can." But she took both his hands into hers and they stayed near the edge of the other dancers, Arianne showing him how to move his feet. He stumbled a bit, and laughed when he did to show willing. Together, they made it through three dances before she said she needed to sit and rest her back.

As they headed for the chairs, one of her friends brought by an extra cup of spring wine, pressing the drink into her hand. Arianne took a sip and grimaced, passing the paper cup directly to Ianto. He took a tentative drink, found the liquid to be tart, dry, and strong, and he emptied the whole draught before he could stop himself.

He'd ignored Jack's annoyed face as they'd danced, and ignored too Jack's sudden interest in finding friends to dance with. Now, as Ianto sat next to Arianne, who breathed heavily but happily whilst chatting about a Sol dance she'd gone to as a girl, he watched Jack swirl effortlessly in the middle of the dancers, swinging from one person to the next as gracefully as he did everything. He even coaxed Toshiko and Gwen out to the dance floor, although not Owen.

They were supposed to be on a date now, Ianto remembered. He hadn't really forgot, merely pushed it to the back of his head so he wouldn't obsess and panic. But his date was having a good time with everyone else, and his date's mum was just pleased to have someone around. Ianto wanted more wine.

"I'm getting some Jammy Dodgers," he said. "Would you like one?"

"If there are any left, yes." She fanned herself, and struck up a conversation with another woman who sat near them.

Ianto wandered back to the desserts in time to see Owen grab the last biscuit. "Could I steal that one for Jack's mum?" Owen frowned, instinctively drawing it closer, then with a shrug, he handed the sweet over.

"You owe me."

"Try the fruit on that plate," Ianto suggested, pointing to the red sauce.

He made his way back to Arianne, ignoring the fact that the music had changed to something melodic, and that Jack was swinging Gwen slowly around the dance floor. Not much of a date then. Quite the opposite. Not worth getting annoyed about. Anyway, the food was good. "Here you go."

"Thank you." She bit into the biscuit with every evidence of enjoyment. "Are you going to dance more?"

"If you're not too tired. It can wait."

She waved at him. "Go on. He's getting bored waiting for you."

Ianto stared at her in confusion. "Bored?"

"Jack." Only she didn't say 'Jack,' she said his name here, the word Ianto couldn't wrap his mouth around. "Go on," she said and chewed the Jammy Dodger as she leaned back in her chair, lounging in a very familiar fashion.

Nerves flooded back, and his dinner rumbled uneasily in his belly. She wanted him to go out there and dance with her son? In front of … Well, truth be told, none of these people cared. He saw couples and groups of every possible combination dancing and talking and just being happy as the sun slowly set. The only people who would notice were the people he'd shown up with, and frankly, Owen didn't give a damn, and neither did Tosh. Gwen unfortunately had that smitten look she often got when Jack was around, not helped at all when Jack bent over and kissed her on the forehead. But Ianto could see the gesture for what it was, even as he approached: a kindness, a wistful longing, and a firm goodbye.

Ianto reached them before they'd separated. He managed a cough that turned into half a request to cut in. Gwen stepped back, as if ready to dance with him, and then she saw how he moved towards Jack, and instead mumbled about getting another drink.

They'd never actually danced before. Ianto didn't know where to put his hands, lead or follow or something entirely new. Then Jack smiled at him, and drew him close, and none of that mattered. They started moving to the music, warm and low, a resting piece between the fervent dance steps of the rest.

"Hi," Jack said into his ear. "Having fun?"

"Starting to," Ianto admitted. "Your mother's a fantastic dancer."

"I had to get it from somewhere."

"Is that all this is, then? Food and dancing?"

"Well, we used to do a greased pig race, but that got banned after the unfortunate incident with Uncle Robert."

Ianto pulled back. "Seriously?" Jack gave him the face, the eyebrow and the clear expression of, 'You believed that?' "Idiot," he said, fondly.

"There's games," said Jack. "Half the colony is over at the pitch shouting for drunk people to throw rocks. But Mum likes this part."

"Is that where you were all day? Throwing rocks?"

"No." Jack pulled him even closer. "I've got good news. I think I've tracked down another Vortex Manipulator. We could be home as soon as tomorrow."

"That's … amazing." Ianto wasn't sure what to think. "How?"

"I've been contacting some old friends, asking questions. One's coming to visit. Quick trip home after that." Jack looked relieved.

"Is that what you've been worrying about?"

"Not exactly." The typical Harkness stonewall face went up. And then it came down again. Jack pulled him closer. "Not everyone here is a friend. Old grudges, etcetera. I knew the Time Agency would be looking for me, and I've stayed out on the boats with people I trusted in case they got wind I'd come home. The less they saw of me, the better, and that includes being seen with the four of you, or Mum."

"You weren't joking about there being a price on your head?"

"I never joke about that. Okay, not often," he said, catching Ianto's disbelief. "Anyway, they'd have a field day with me if they found out about my little parlour trick." By which he meant his immortality, Ianto could only imagine. A powerful group of amoral, sadistic, avaricious time travellers (he guessed, given the two examples he'd seen) would think all their wishes had come true upon finding out their disobedient former compatriot couldn't die no matter what they did to him.

Ianto shivered just to consider the terrible possibilities. "You're here now."

"John was right. The Agency fell. I'm free."

As he spoke, the music changed into another fast beat. Jack watched Ianto to make sure he was okay, then launched into a very complicated step pattern which Ianto could only just keep up with, and there was no time for questions.

Jack didn't swing out for more dance partners this time, keeping his hands on Ianto's as they went through several dances this way. He was sure he wasn't maintaining the same fluid motion Jack did, but he was too out of breath and happy to care, and Jack's delighted face said he didn't mind at all.

***

The dance was still going on, would go on as long as the food and the music and the drunk people with rocks held out, but Jack and Ianto were finished with dancing. The pair of them slipped out of the crowd between sessions, holding hands and bumping against each other as they made their quick way back to the flat alone.

Even before they reached the front door, Ianto gave in and pulled Jack in for a deep kiss. Jack pushed back, mouth grinning under his. "Inside," he ordered. "Come on." He kissed him again, and together they stumbled into the flat, past Arianne's bedroom, and safely into Jack's.

Sex hadn't been on the table since Jack's return. They'd been taking things slowly, too slowly, Ianto thought, as he fumbled with clasps and ties on unfamiliar fabrics, until Jack finally pulled his clothes over his head, holding his wrists in place with the fabric of his shirt sleeves still half-on. Ianto moaned as Jack pushed him to the bed like this, arms bound, trousers quickly coming undone with Jack's working fingers. Jack's own trousers had already puddled to the floor.

It had been like this, once. The other three would leave, and they would tear into each other hungrily. Ianto had panicked the first time Jack had bound his arms this way, fearful for what the man who'd once threatened to kill him would do. Concern became thrill as he'd learned how vivid Jack's sexual imagination could be, and even now, just the feel of the cloth binding his wrists drove Ianto wild.

When Jack pulled the shirt the rest of the way free, Ianto was almost disappointed. He preoccupied himself with kissing Jack again. God, he'd missed this, missed the slide of Jack's tongue and the breathy laughs and the warm, rich taste of his mouth.

"Wait," said Jack between kisses. He pulled away and dove his his discarded trousers. He dug through one pouch, then a second, until his face lit with glee in the dim light. He clasped his hand around something and crawled back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged next to Ianto. He opened his palm, revealing another little pot.

Perhaps it was oil, a kind of lubricant? Jack was a connoisseur of the various warming, cooling, tingling, pulsing, and quivering liquid, gels, and jellies available at Cardiff's sex shops. Once sated, he would ramble on for ages regarding the uses of same before his own words turned him on again and he'd badger Ianto into coating his fingers with the chilliest jelly they had to spread over Jack's nipples and deep inside him. Ianto preferred the crisp zing of the tingling lubes on his own cock, but had grown very fond of warming gels coating his arse.

"What's it called?" he asked, nudging closer to Jack for the feel of his shoulder pressing skin.

Jack unscrewed the lid and scooped out a tiny fingerful. As he brought the finger to Ianto's mouth and nodded for him to open wide, he said, "Chocolate."

The flavour shocked him. They'd licked chocolate syrup from each other back in the day, Jack cracking jokes about sweets during the sweet. Ianto still woke at night from heady dreams of chocolate mixed with Jack's scent, suckled daintily from the dip of his navel.

"Nice," he breathed, unable to think of a better thanks. The chocolate was fruity and sweet and thick, like the richest cocoa had been stewed with blackberries then stirred into cream.

"Just nice?"

"Would 'Amazing' be better?"

"Much." Jack scooped another fingerful into his own mouth and leapt onto Ianto, their mouths crashing together. Jack tasted strongly of the fruity chocolate, and a little of the spring wine, but mostly and always of himself. "I've spent the last two days imagining the exquisite flavour of your skin covered in this." His hand slid into Ianto's lap, fondling him. "What do you think?"

"The blankets will get sticky."

"Good."

***

The blankets did not get as sticky as feared, because the chocolate was too good to smear. Warm, content, and yes, a bit sticky, Ianto had settled to sleep with his head on Jack's chest, one blanket almost completely covering his head. Jack's heartbeat thrummed in his ear, reassuringly steady. Jack's arm wrapped around him, also reassuringly steady. They hadn't made time for afterglow back in the old days. There'd been a few exhausted overnights, and one good sleep at Christmas (and even "good" was relative, tinged by what Jack had said he'd found when he tracked down Ianto's car). Post-coital cuddling, or whatever this was, had the flavour of something new.

Ianto liked this new flavour.

It was probably just his bad luck then that, as he drifted towards sleep, he heard someone stumbling into Jack's room.

Jack squeezed him, and Ianto took the squeeze to mean, don't move unless you want whoever it is to know you're here. This was confirmed by Jack's casual readjustment of the blanket to obscure Ianto further.

He heard more awkward footsteps, followed by a half-giggle and someone shushing themselves.

For half a second, he thought it was Jack's mum come in to check on him. Then Jack said, "Gwen?"

There was another stumble in the dark. Ianto tensed, but the arm around him squeezed again. He felt a pressure from the other side of the bed, and realised Gwen had sat down, or fallen.

"Hi," she said, voice in the same half-giggle. "I couldn't find you."

"I came back early," Jack said. "You okay?"

"Fine. Fine." Gwen had trouble getting her voice steady. The only other times he'd heard her like this were when Jack had been away, and the four of them had gone to the pub and stayed too long. The spring wine had been very tasty tonight, and although Gwen could hold her lager, wine was the quickest way to get her off her head.

The arm moved away from Ianto suddenly as he felt more movement. Jack said, muffled, "Stop." A moment later, he said more clearly, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but stop."

"Why? Don't tell me you haven't thought about this, about us. We're both here now."

The blanket shifted as Jack moved, and Ianto caught a glimpse of shadows, saw Jack grab and hold onto Gwen's wrists in a careful grip, neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away, but firmly keeping her in place. "This isn't going to happen, Gwen. You're only here because you're scared and you think you're never going to see Rhys again."

"That's not true. When we were dancing, I know you felt it too."

And what to say to that? How to even begin to remind Jack he was right here, or to tell Gwen she wasn't alone with him?

"Gwen, if this ever happens between us, it'll be because you made the choice yourself and want it. Not when you're drunk, not when you're afraid. Definitely not now."

She took a hitching breath, face crumpling into tears. Not for the rejection, Ianto reckoned, because Jack drew her into a hug and kissed her hair. "It's going to be fine," he said. "We're going to get you back home, soon. I've heard from one of my contacts. We'll be back in Cardiff by next week, and Rhys will never know you were gone."

"Not like I could tell him," she said, still sniffling. "'Sorry, love. Went to the future for a month. But I'll pick up some semi skimmed on my way home.'"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Go sleep this off. In the morning, you won't even remember."

"Can I stay here?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Jack said, with a distinct, 'I've had this particular fantasy for over a year and I have to say no and this is _unfair_ ,' tone. "Besides, Ianto says you snore."

"Hah, he can talk. I'm up half the night with his snoring. You should hear him."

Jack smirked. "I have heard him. It's kind of cute." Ianto poked him, and was rewarded with a shift of leg closer to him. If Jack thought he was getting a blow job right now....

But the hand came back under the covers, stroking Ianto's bare shoulder fondly.

Gwen harrumphed, and then there was a louder cough of someone not trying to be especially subtle from the doorway.

Owen said, "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Jack said, as Gwen said, "Maybe."

"Only you left," Owen said, and Ianto could hear the alcohol in his tremulous words as he also sat on the bed, "and I reckoned I'd find you all here. Half expected to find you having a three-way, but Gwen's not into those." He let out an 'oof' as though Gwen had smacked him ungently in the arm.

"Go away," said Gwen. "Jack and I are having a private conversation."

"Can't be that private if you three aren't fucking. Budge up." Owen made himself comfortable. Ianto tried to crouch into the smallest space possible, wondering how Jack was going to convince them both to go the fuck away.

Gwen said, "What three?"

Owen said, "Unless Jack's grown himself another leg, that's Jones's foot." Ianto felt the cool air on his toes and yanked his knee up as fast as he could, but Gwen had already tugged at the blanket over his head despite Jack's hurried protest.

Gwen stared at him.

"Hi, Gwen."

"You've been there this whole time?"

Jack said, "Would you believe we had a transmat and he just popped in?"

No longer needing to stay hidden, and aware of his state of undress, Ianto sat up with a blanket wrapped around himself. Gwen was still on the edge of the bed, both hands covering her mouth as she pulled away. "Were you shagging just now?"

"Not _just_ now," Ianto said, rubbing his hair. It had been at least a quarter of an hour. Jack was probably ready to go again.

"But he's been here. You've been here," Gwen corrected herself. "Listening?"

From the doorway, Tosh said, "Are you all in here? The room was empty and it's too quiet."

"Toshiko!" Jack said jovially. "Pull up some blanket. And could you grab Ianto's trousers, they're right at your feet. Thanks."

"Get Jack's too," Owen said, as Tosh hesitated in confusion. Owen turned. "I don't intend to see your arse, either."

"You could go back to _your_ room," Jack said, a soupçon of annoyance in the bubbly gumbo of his personality.

Gwen had already pulled up some blanket and placed her head to rest on her arm. Muffled, she asked, "Why does the blanket smell like chocolate?"

***

The Time Agent didn't arrive the next day. The Sol festival was still going strong, with more games (these involving swimming out to retrieve something on a buoy) and craft displays (which none of them could identify, although one set looked vaguely like quilts). True to Jack's prediction, Gwen appeared, or pretended, to have forgotten the entire incident from last night, other than wondering why they'd all woken up together, two of them only in trousers. She wandered the displays asking question after question without waiting for the answers, almost like a child. The rest of them nursed various states of hangover and tried to keep up.

Most of the food was warmed leftovers from the feast the day before, but Jack disappeared and came back to the four of them bearing a plate overflowing with fresh nibbles to share as they walked around the displays.

"There's a weaponry demonstration this afternoon," he said, chewing. Large but delicate fingers wrapped a creamy white bite of something in a dark leaf. "Open," he said to Ianto.

Still embarrassed at getting caught last night, and with the added company the rest of the night which had meant no further alone time, the last thing Ianto wanted was to give into Jack's whims in front of them now.

"I'm full, thanks."

Toshiko picked up a small handful of the nibbles from Jack's plate, something golden and crispy. "What are these?"

"Crab cakes, more or less. Try the dip. It's lemon."

She took a careful bite, and another with the dip. A happy expression crawled over her face, and she handed two to Gwen. "That's wonderful."

Jack still had his finger roll. He held it up again for Ianto's inspection.

"What is it?" he relented.

"Ever had feta wrapped in grape leaves?" Ianto nodded, thinking of his one trip to Greece. "It's similar."

Obediently, Ianto opened his mouth and let Jack pop the nibble inside. Not bad, he decided, chewing slowly to savour the creamy texture of the cheese.

Jack foisted his plate into Owen's hands before he described the history of the colony's settlement with sweeping hand motions. As they walked, they reached a display of black ribbons, tattered and fluttering in the dry breeze like skinny ravens. Jack slowed and stopped.

"What's this one?" asked Gwen, poking through the remains of the goodies on the plate. She stopped when she noticed the expression on Jack's face. "Jack?"

"It's a memorial. There was an attack on the colony, oh, twenty or thirty years ago. A lot of people died. Others vanished. Then we went to war. More people died."

None of them asked anything like, "What was it about?" or "Who won?" Ianto thought none of them were bad at arithmetic, not bad enough not to notice that twenty or thirty years ago, colony-time, Jack would have been living here. Given Arianne's age and his, he'd have been a boy. How many people had he loved who were remembered here with these simple, sad mementos?

Flipping into the relaxed, unhindered personality he normally exuded, Jack led them purposefully towards another display of wooden carvings he swore were sex toys.

Jack made an excuse not longer after to leave them again. This time, Ianto hung back, and traced his footsteps. Jack had wandered back to the display of black ribbons. Ianto watched him, wondering if he should give him some privacy.

"It's all right," Jack said, waving him over without looking. "It's been a really long time for me. I just wanted to see if they were listed." He pored over the tiny bits of paper pinned to each ribbon, names written in handwriting of varying legibility. After a few minutes, Jack's hand paused over two.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." Jack brushed the ribbons into place, straightening the bows. He found another ribbon to contemplate, face a study in past sorrows warmed over by centuries.

Ianto waited, pretending to read other names until Jack was ready. There were a lot of ribbons, he realised, seeing that the display went on the other side as well, stretching back.

Jack took his hand, and they began to walk in the direction Ianto had last seen the others. Switching gears again, perhaps in self-defense, Jack said, "It's not my favourite phrase to say, but, about last night. Are you all right?"

Ianto nodded. "Fine."

"'Fine,' fine, or 'fine,' not talking about it?"

"Is not talking about it an option?"

"Tends to be, yeah. So you're not okay?" Jack sounded concerned, but was that because he cared or because he didn't want to deal with the fallout?

"Nothing's damaged, nothing's unduly sore. Was there anything else?"

Jack stopped. Since they were still holding hands, so did Ianto. "Everything ended kind of suddenly. If that's bothering you, we can sneak away for a while and continue." His tone went suggestive, though the flirtation didn't quite meet his eyes, not when they'd just been paying their respects to the dead. Captain Jack Harkness might go down on his knees in the Torchwood morgue with a wink and a grin, but the Boeshane memorial was better than a chaperone.

"I don't think that's necessary. Let's find the others." He tapped the words into place with a short smile.

Jack tugged at his hand, pulling him closer. "What are you upset about?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine. Everyone's fine." He couldn't quite keep the bitterness from the last part. He pulled his hand away.

Jack sounded annoyed. "I said we could make up the lost time from last night."

"It's fine." He kept walking.

Jack tested the waters. "So we're on for tonight?"

"No, Gwen's sobered up."

"That's why you're so pissed off?"

Ianto didn't stop walking, and he definitely didn't look at Jack. "If she hadn't been drinking last night, would you have asked her to stay?"

"I doubt it. She's still upset about being so far away from Rhys. You know how she gets."

Ianto did. After Jack had vanished, she'd panicked right back to Rhys and into an engagement. Gwen didn't react well to being upset, or out of her element. When frightened, she turned to the nearest source of warmth and/or comfort. And that didn't matter to Ianto, because he did the exact same thing and was bright enough to know it.

What mattered was what he couldn't manage to make himself say out loud: Jack had obviously made the right call and had made that for good reasons. His own ethics were never to sleep with the unwilling, something Ianto couldn't fault him for, and he'd made the decision he knew Gwen would were her judgement not compromised, again not a foible. However….

Ianto was certain he hadn't factored into the decision at all. It hadn't mattered that he was right there in the room, in the bed. It hadn't mattered that Jack had been pursuing him, in his own way, for something more substantial than they'd managed before the Doctor had dragged Jack off on his adventure. Jack would always be this way, affectionate and ready, but for everyone, at any time, never staying in one place or with one person. Before, their assignations had been intentioned as merely something warm and easy at the end of a long day, perfect in their lack of obligation, and Ianto had enjoyed himself knowing it meant nothing. It was supposed to mean nothing.

And Jack had gone, and it had meant more than nothing, a great deal more. He believed he meant something to Jack as well, but he couldn't face the thought that he might not. It was too much, here and now, to form the question, "Would your answer have been different if she'd come to you sober, and would it have mattered at all that I was there, too?"

Even turning to watch Jack now, only confusion covered his face, as well as hurt that Ianto wasn't responding to him. He'd happily invite the rest of the team, the rest of the _world_ into his bed, without pausing to consider that there was someone else there just now. His first sexual experience had taught him a total absence of jealousy; Ianto had never been so lucky. And no matter that he was beginning to understand how much he felt for Jack, he didn't think he could bear spending his days wondering how long he had until Jack left for a new adventure.

"I'm just tired. Last night was fantastic, but I think it was best as a good wrap-up. End things on a high note. Don't you agree?"

Jack's face went soft, and the hurt seeped in around the edges more. "Are you sure? I thought we were finally getting back to where we were." He reached out to try for Ianto's hand again, but Ianto pulled away.

He shrugged. "That's where we'd been. Just a bit of fun between disasters. Neither of us is ready to settle into anything more, and I think it's easier if we don't try." He wouldn't think about the warmth of laying his head just listening to Jack's heart, nor of the breathless joy from dancing with him. He certainly wouldn't let himself consider that Jack would share those simple pleasures; such a baseless fantasy was too much to believe. Jack liked him, Jack would be with him, but he'd never come home to him and want to stay. Going back to what they'd had, or continuing on this way, would only remind Ianto daily of what they'd never be.

Jack opened his mouth, then shut it again, chewing on his lip slightly like he wanted to say something else. "If that's what you want."

"There they are," Ianto lied, pointing up the hill. The others were still out of sight, though he had a pretty good idea of where they'd be. "Come on, then."

***

He met up with Arianne later when the food was brought out again. Her cheeks were flushed from the games she'd played, and she proudly sported a new red winner's ribbon pinned to her shirt. "I'm famished," she said, nudging Ianto to put more on his own plate in sympathy.

"I'll pop if I eat more," he said, plucking what appeared to be two golden-fried samosas off his own dish and onto hers.

"Then feed it to Jack."

Away from Jack, he couldn't hold onto his resolve as well, and he saw the recognition in her eyes before he covered his expression. "He can make a plate for himself," Ianto said, and the two of them found seats together.

Without much surprise, Ianto spied Jack not long after, arm slung in a very friendly fashion around the midriff of one of the less human colonists, a woman with a few too many arms and blue fur. Feeling rejected, he'd find a way to feel wanted. And so it went.

Arianne followed Ianto's gaze. "He always moves on," she said, and took a bite of samosa. "He tries to be a good boy, but the big Time Agent never once found time to home again after he left. Your rift dropped him here, or I would never have seen him again. And he'll keep going. He'll go, and he won't be back. I'm sorry."

Ianto could hear the lonely echo in her words, and he knew she was right.

***

The third Time Agent Ianto ever met arrived at the colony two days later. She swaggered up to Jack as soon as she saw him, planted a disturbingly hot kiss on him, then laughed as she pulled away, leaving him to stumble.

"How's your twenty-first century English?" he asked her.

"Excelsior," she said, twisting her head to take in the others. "These the tourists, then?"

"Yeah. Had a run-in with a rift in time and space that landed us here. They need to get home. Can you do me a favour?"

She folded her arms. "The Agency fell after you left. I don't think I want to do you any favours, Jorrad."

"But you're here," he coaxed. "And you haven't tried to shoot me. Tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you. A trade."

The woman let out a breath -- Ianto never did learn her name -- and dropped her arms. "As a matter of fact, I've already been paid. I should make you work for it despite that, but I always was nicer than you." She indicated her wrist strap. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Let me, let _us_ , get our belongings together and say goodbye."

Jack left her standing, impatience and annoyance writ large on her attractive features. He spread his hands like a school teacher. "Okay, kids, pack up. We're going home."

And for words Ianto had been longing to hear for weeks, suddenly he knew his reply.

"I'm staying."

He hadn't expected Owen to be the one who replied, "The hell you are." That made the decision easier.

Ianto folded his arms. "I like it here. The climate's nice, the food is good. I even enjoy the company."

"You don't belong here," Jack said flatly, a wealth of experience in his tone.

"I don't belong there, either. There's nothing left for me in Cardiff."

Gwen put on a quick smile. "Pet, you've got a family."

He didn't even look her way. "I barely speak to my sister or her family. There are enough bodies in the morgue to fake my death without a problem." He kept his gaze on Jack, knowing if he looked away now, he'd lose the argument. "Let me do this. I want to stay."

"What are you going to do here? You can't work. You can't live with my mother."

"Actually, she already said she'd love to have me stay on. She's missed having someone else around." It was a deliberate blow, and as Ianto saw the twinge of pain move across Jack's face, effective.

"Fine." His tone was short, curt.

Toshiko said softly, "I'm considering staying on as well."

Jack's head turned, and voice like a whip, he said, "Your contract isn't up."

She startled back, stunned. Ianto felt bad for her, knowing full well he was the reason for Jack's fury and saddened to see it taken out on another. She mumbled a quiet apology, hiding her face.

Ianto said, "If you want to stay, stay. He can't force us to leave. And it's hardly a timeline concern, since we've come from the past. We can't contaminate causality or whatever his excuse is."

Now that he'd made his choice, a quivery confidence fuelled him. Stubbornly, he kept his jaw set, daring Jack to argue. But what did Jack have to barter with, ultimately? A thankless job with all the delightful prospects of an early, gruesome death?

"We're leaving in two minutes," Jack said, spinning on his boot heel. "I'm going to say my goodbyes. Alone." He went back through the door and closed it. Inside, he'd be giving Arianne the last hug he ever would, and he would be breaking her heart again. Without him there to collide against, Ianto felt his resolve weaken.

Gwen threw her arms around his neck. "We'll miss you," she said, breath hitching. He had his doubts, but he hugged her back, appreciating the gesture.

Owen shook his hand, again surprising him. "Standard advice: don't drink the water, don't sleep with anyone you don't trust not to give you alien VD, don't bitch when you wake up and realise you fucked up."

That drew a grin from him. "You too."

Toshiko was the final hug. "Are you sure about this?"

"Are you sure you don't want to stay on, too?"

She frowned and he caught her quick glance at Owen. "I'm sure. I suppose."

Suddenly Jack was back, and they were too busy getting into position around the Time Agent's strap to say any other goodbyes. The moment before they winked out of his life forever, Jack did turn his head and looked straight at him. "See you." And he was gone.

***

The first night passed cold and lonely. He slept in the large room in the large bed. He'd looked forward to having the space to himself for the first time in weeks. No more waking up with Owen's foot in his back, no more going to sleep listening to Gwen's snores, no more disturbed rest by whatever night terrors regularly chased Toshiko from her own dreams. Just as when the four of them had shared a tent for a week in the Himalayas, freezing and bitching at each other, Ianto was beyond done with togetherness. Now he was surrounded by too much quiet and not enough warm reminders of other humans. If Jack had grown up this way, surrounded in a bed with all the people who loved him, no wonder he tried never to spend a night alone if he could help it.

Thinking of Jack was a bad plan. He tried thinking of better subjects, kept circling back. Jack was gone, they were all gone, and he'd chosen this life. That he could make the choice had to be worth something. He wasn't regretting his decision. This planet, this colony, felt more home to him than anywhere had. The closest he'd come to fitting a place this well was the flat in London, his CDs on the shelf, Lisa's gently-used sofa in the sitting room, and the bed they'd been going to replace.

Lisa wasn't a better thought to be having now.

From another room in the flat, he heard muffled sobs.

Sleep didn't come.

***

On the second day, he waved Arianne off to her job then cleaned the flat. Jack had been right on one thing: Ianto wasn't suited to go out on the boats. But perhaps, if he went into the colony centre later in the day, he could ask around to see who needed assistance. He could cook, he could fetch, he could clean, he could mind children, and he could learn to do more.

He would learn to do more. This wasn't exile, this was a new life.

Arianne had put last night's dinner in the stasis room. Ianto pulled out a small stack of flatbreads and a small pot of sauce. He found a bag to pack them inside, storing everything as carefully as he'd observed Jack doing the day of the picnic. A nice walk into the colony centre, a look around, a lunch by the square, and home to surprise Arianne with dinner, this was his plan.

So resolving, he opened the door to go out.

Jack stood on the doorstep, arm raised to knock.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment. Ianto was stuck between, 'Sorry, we're full up on arseholes here, don't need more,' and 'Did you forget something?'

"Hi." As a witty hello, it lacked panache.

"Ianto Jones," Jack said, savouring the words like a long-anticipated draught. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Finally, he saw what he'd been missing. "You're older." Jack's hair had changed, and the weariness in his eyes. If he hadn't got here the long way, he'd certainly taken his time.

"Did I get here at the right point?" Jack asked, glancing around. "No overlaps?"

"No, you left yesterday." His face pulled into a frown. "Did _you_ pay the other Time Agent to take the team home?"

"Yes. A lot. Can I come in?"

Ianto stepped aside, and Jack came in, gazing around to refamiliarise himself with the place that, as far as Ianto could tell, he'd just been. "It's exactly like I remember. You know how you paint over things in your head after a while, and then you go back and it's not the same? It's the same."

Jack took a seat at the table, face lost in memory and wonder. Ianto sat down opposite him.

"You came back."

"I came home."

"For how long?"

He stretched and sat back. "I had to wait until after I'd been and gone again. I've been wanting to come home for years." Finally, his gaze settled on Ianto. "I missed you. I won't feel bad if you don't say the same. If I did this right, you haven't had time."

Ianto said nothing. He got up and lit the hob for tea. "How long are you staying this time? I'd hate to see you break your mother's heart again."

"Like I said, I've been waiting for years. I've spent my time travelling. I can settle here for a while." He looked around the room again, drinking in the details from memories Ianto could only imagine. "Maybe not here," he added regretfully. "I'm a few thousand years too old to be living with my mother. But close by. I want to stay for the rest of her life if I can. I've got the time."

Ianto got the bowls ready, heart hammering. Jack was staying. Jack was staying here. That didn't meant he was staying with him, and he couldn't act as though it did. "Tea's almost up. Sorry, they don't have coffee in the future."

For the first time, Jack's face split into a grin. "I thought that was you."

"What was me?"

Jack reached into the rucksack he'd brought with him. Ianto had expected clothing, and indeed, the first thing he saw was the same simple fabric worn by the colonists. Jack extracted a jar and presented it proudly. "They grow this on some of the inner planets. I thought I remembered that you liked it." The grin wavered, and Ianto could read uncertainty, and.... Was that hope?

He took the jar, and with a nod from Jack, cracked the seal. A rich, earthy aroma hit him like a kiss, and he shut his eyes, just tasting the air.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." He looked at Jack. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Without being asked, Jack started rooting through the parcel Ianto had packed for his own lunch, taking out the flatbreads and the little pot of sauce, handling each as delicately as he would a long-anticipated treat. However young he still looked, he moved and acted like an old man reliving a happier time, and the effect was unnerving.

"How old are you?" Ianto blurted, staring at Jack. 

"Currently? Around five thousand. I stopped keeping close track."

Ianto sat down again. "You really are, aren't you? And the others are dead. They've been dead for centuries." He'd known, of course he'd known, but when they'd left, the past literally had seemed another country, merely needing the right passport to visit. 

"I'll tell you about them," Jack promised. "I have so many stories, if you want to hear. Mum's not going to believe them all."

"You're here." Too many enormities to take in, Ianto thought faintly. He felt as off-balance as he had the first time he'd watched Jack rise from the dead. And just like before, Jack sat there, faintly smiling, and a little worried at Ianto's reaction. When Arianne came home, she'd have the same problem, the same questions, but only one mattered. "You're really staying?"

"I really am. And I'm kind of starving right now. What do you say we talk while we eat? I could even get that coffee made for you, if you're interested."

Ianto had forgotten the jar in his hand. He looked at it again. All this time, and Jack still remembered details about Ianto. Maybe not many, but he knew Ianto's name, and that he was here, and he'd recalled something Ianto liked. It wasn't the best start, but for a new beginning, it wasn't so bad.

He pushed the jar of coffee back to Jack. "The water's ready."

***  
The End  
***


End file.
